Franconia Ridge Traverse

Before

Once I set my mind on completing the White Mountain 4,000 Footer list, I thought maybe I should start with the smallest mountain - Mt. Tecumseh, 4,003 feet, still 837 feet higher than Mt. Monadnock, the highest mountain I had climbed in years. My line of thought somehow warped into choosing the sixth highest mountain in the state, the highest outside of the Presidential Range - Mt. Lafayette. I had heard good things (and later I would hear some bad things), but 5,260 feet of elevation had me worried. So, I recruited my friend Court who willingly obliged to a day-long excursion. He offered to be my hiking buddy a few weeks ago, and I was stupidly excited since he hiked a huge chunk of the AT ("I must not be THAT hopeless after all!"). I have been enjoying learning things on my own, sometimes the hard way, but I knew I could use the guidance of a more experience hiker. Plus, it would be a great way for me to get to know the guy who's been dating one of my best friends (and Facebook wife) for so long.

So, I chose Mt. Lafayette. My research turned up that it would be about a 8 mile trip up and down, or an 8.9 mile trip for the loop. I immediately started doubting my abilities. The loop consists of three mountains (though I somehow forgot this the day of... read on); the 4,800 foot Little Haystack Mountain, the 5,089 foot Mt. Lincoln, and the 5,260 ft Mt. Lafayette. To do all three is to complete the Franconia Ridge Trail, which links up to several other trails and the Greenleaf Hut along the way. My doubt started to grow as we worked out the logistics, but Court reassured that I would be fine. My NH hiking guide rated the views as a 5/5, and the difficulty as a 10/10. Oh, crap. I felt a little better that Mt. Monadnock had the same rating. But... a mountain 2,094 feet higher than the biggest mountain I've hiked in recent memory? Even more troubling: the elevation gain of Mt. Monadnock is around 2,094 feet whereas this trail was almost 4,000 feet of elevation gain. Even MORE troubling: the site I was using for reference estimated the total time would be 6.25 hours for about 9 miles. I hiked almost 17 miles in 7 hours on the Wapack Trail. In short, I knew I was in for a challenge. 

The night before I'm doing something important or exciting (first day of work, waking up for a flight, etc.) I always have a stress dream. This was no different. I was supposed to be up at 6am, and in my dream I slept until 9:30, Court was calling me to see why I had blown him off, and there was 6 inches of slush on the ground in July. "I'm so sorry, I slept in! It's supposed to be 90 degrees today, maybe the slush will melt!" None of those things happened. I was up before my alarm and we left our neck of the woods at 7:00. It's about an hour and a half drive to the White Mountains region, and after a few minutes of confusion over where the trail head was we parked among a sea of cars and prepared to set off. On the drive up we decided to change our plans from hiking up Old Bridle Path (the most direct) to taking Falling Waters Trail, a friend had suggested the Falling Waters Trail since it had, believe it or not, some lovely falling water and was less steep than Old Bridle.


During

Along the Falling Waters Trail

Hours 0 - 2: We hastily set off to avoid being stuck with a group of about 15-20 people that were converging at the trail head. No thanks. The Falling Waters Trail did not disappoint! There were some sections of high, fast moving water, but I only had a fully submerged boot once. I was carrying a ridiculously large expedition pack provided by my step dad that shifted around a little bit when I was jumping, which did not make for the most graceful leaps. My waterproof boots held up, though. It was hot and humid, and though hiking along the water provided some cool breezes we were thankful for some ice cold, crystal clear mountain water. I hesitated for a moment, envisioning myself bent over vomiting from some bacteria, but my fears were eased when I saw how clear the water was. A water fall coming out of the side of a mountain is about as safe as you can get. My mom still wasn't too happy with that, but I'm here, right?

Trail, or rock climb?

This trail was quite unforgiving, with very few stretches of flat ground and plenty of places to face plant. I wanted to keep a decent pace to prove to myself that I could do it, but also to make sure we were making good time. I'm proud to say that I did quite well! It was not without a lot of sweating and feeling like I wanted to vomit at some points. The trail is riddled with rocks and roots, so almost every step had to carefully placed. We stopped twice, once for a water break / my inability to breathe, and once so I could wrap my knee, which was starting to feel particularly wobbly. Did I mention that I strained something in my knee about a week ago? No? Well I did, and it was feeling particularly unsettled all week. Not very reassuring when you're going to be stepping over uneven rocks for 6 hours. Just before our second pit stop I said to myself "Oh, Molly, you will never hike the AT because this is miserable and why do you want to do this to yourself?" Then I ate a Chewy bar and Gatorade "energy chew" that my parents bought me for my birthday, and I suddenly felt much better. It's amazing what a little gooey square of pure corn syrup will do for morale. We finally started to see some viewpoints when we were almost at the summit (though we didn't know that), and were able to look back onto "'The Old Man In The Mountain' Mountain (RIP)", as I call it, or Cannon Mountain, as most other people call it.

Hours 2 - 4: We popped out to the summit just about 2 hours after setting out. As I mentioned before, I somehow forgot that we were going to Little Haystack Mountain and not Mt. Lincoln. In my head I had planned to do the loop in the other direction, meaning Mt. Lafayette first, and it just slipped my mind that it was three mountains and not two. I quickly realized my mistake when I saw a marker that said "Mt. Lincoln" with an arrow pointing left. I quietly cursed myself as I looked over to Mt. Lincoln, realizing that we had two more "uphill" stretches instead of one. A double-decker PB&J, Dorito's, and astounding views quickly reset my woes, though I had almost zero appetite.

View from the Summit of Little Haystack Mountain (stolen from Court)

Headed towards Mt. Lincoln

Cameras rarely do justice to what you see with your eyes, but the photo I stole from Court's much-nicer-camera comes close. We spent about 20 or 30 minutes at the summit of Little Haystack before heading towards Mt. Lincoln. The trail, though still quite rocky in some areas, was a nice change from the ascent. The rock-lined path across the ridge was easy to navigate and provided amazing views the entire way. We frequently stopped to take in our surroundings, or to await a traffic jam to clear. The path narrows significantly when it enters the trees, so it really only allows for one-way traffic. The ridge walk is almost completely exposed, and it's obvious to see how the weather could change drastically and conditions could become dangerous very quickly. Luckily, we had a mostly clear day (it was a little hazy), and we were thankful for some cloud cover so the sun wasn't beating down on us the whole time.

Looking towards Mt. Lafayette

Linking up the AT

We stopped only briefly at Mt. Lincoln, mainly so I could take my typical "here's my feet relaxing with a nice view" photo, but also because the biggest mountain, Mt. Lafayette, was next. The Franconia Ridge Trail is part of the AT, and I smiled when I saw the white blazes I knew were part of the AT. Huzzah! I started secretly hoping we would meet a thruhiker. 

Success!!

About 2 miles after we left the summit of Little Haystack Mountain we arrived at the summit of Mt. Lafayette. It was crowded and a little noisier than I would have liked, but it was incredible nonetheless. Trees looked like toothpicks, cars were just little blobs of color, even the highway looked majestic. How often can you say nice things about 93? Reaching the third summit of the day was a great feeling, but the impending blisters I was feeling were not. I didn't bother to take off my boots, but I was silently rooting for the liners I purchased from REI to do their job. Basically, the idea is that the thin, form-fitting sock liner prevents blisters by creating a sock-on-sock instead of sock-on-skin situation. My hopes were being dashed as I felt the "hot spots" forming in the usual areas, but I was distracted by a particularly rugged-looking hiker reaching the summit and yelling "Okay, who brought the beer?!"

Looking back to Mt. Lincoln (stolen from Court)

We soaked up the view for a few more minutes before beginning our descent. I realized Court wasn't directly behind me, and when I turned I heard him ask the "where's-the-beer" guy if he was a thruhiker, and he was (afterwards Court told me "that was the thruhiker smell"). My silent hopes of running into a thruhiker were answered! He was particularly cheerful and eager to chat with us for a few minutes. I asked him why he was carrying a beat-up hockey stick with him, and he said his trail name was Puck. Fair enough. He was hiking North - South and had started in Maine 42 days ago. I offered up my uneaten Snicker's, which he humbly accepted after saying "oh... oh man... only if you're willing to part with it". As I was handing it to him, "blue-shirt-man" (nicknamed so because he was wearing a blue shirt) popped out behind us and offered him a pear. We wished him well and started our descent.

Heading to the Greenleaf Hut (small, but visible!)

Hours 4 - 6ish: The first mile or so was very rocky (seems to be the theme, right?), and crowded at times. Every step had to be carefully placed, which was true for almost the entire trail, to avoid becoming a tangle of flailing limbs. My knees were a tad wobbly, my ankles were starting to ache with each step, my quads were getting a decent workout, but I kept up a decent pace. We re-entered the woods where the trail slimmed down to one-way traffic again, and just under 2 miles after the summit we reached the Greenleaf Hut. But, oh, I left out a lovely squander of mine. There's a small lake next to the Greenleaf Hut, and the trail runs adjacent to a muddy section next to the lake. I went first, jumped from one rock to the next, and then thought I was close enough to effortlessly leap to over the last bit of mud to solid ground. Well, I underestimated my ability to jump from a standstill on a rock with an awkwardly large pack on my back. My left foot plunged into the mud up to my sock line, luckily I was able to rip it out before it went any deeper. Court laughed at me as I whacked the mud off on a rock. Thankfully my waterproof boots held up and no mud got through. I immediately praised myself for purchasing gaiters with the liners the day before, otherwise I would have certainly had a boot full of mud. The Greenleaf Hut was overrun with kids, but at least it had a bathroom for those of us without outdoor plumbing. I'm not against dropping trow in the woods, but I'd rather not if there's an option.

Looking back at Mt. Lafayette (left) and Mt. Lincoln (right)

A four mile descent down Old Bridle Path seemed much longer than that, because as I mentioned before I had to really pay attention to each step. I could feel myself getting tired but I knew that if I let my guard down it could end poorly. I was very thankful for my "hiking poles" (free ski poles from the dump) and every stretch of level ground. There were a few times that I crab-crawled down some rocks, because I figured I might as well be on my ass voluntarily rather than waiting for an ill-placed step to do it for me. Thankfully I didn't have any major qualms, but I did get two decent scrapes, one on each leg, from rubbing against a rock. I made a mental note to invest in the convertible pants I had been eyeing during my clothing training at work. Pants are abrasion resistant, my skin is not.

Can you tell which foot went in the mud?

The sound of water confirmed we had linked back up to the Falling Waters Trail, meaning the loop was complete! A short .2 mile walk on mostly level ground took us to the trail head and completed our journey. We walked under the highway and back to our car, where we saw two men trying to fish something out of their car window with their trekking poles. We assumed they had locked their keys in the car, but a few minutes later they told us their father had the keys and was on his way, they just wanted to get the beer that was inside. Fair enough. I peeled off my muddy boots, gaiters, and socks, and cringed awaiting my blister-riddled fate. But alas, the liners did their job and I was blister free! Best $6 (even less with my discount) I've spent. As we were packing up the car, blue-shirt-man, the one that gave Puck a pear, approached us asking for a ride back to a trail head 3 miles down the road. He thanked us several times, saying he didn't want to have to walk three miles after having done 10 miles of hiking. I thought back to the day I completed the last stretch of the Wapack, then had to walk 5.5 hilly miles to my car. I feel ya, bro, I feel ya.

After

The car ride home was quiet, mostly due to how exhausted we were. Sometimes silence can be awkward, especially with someone who haven't hung out with a lot, but the mutual understanding of how tired we were was enough to squash any need to make small talk. I noticed that I still had no appetite, but I made myself eat some jerky anyway. No appetite... but a beer wouldn't be so bad. I stopped at the store on the way home to get myself a celebratory beer. Later I would eat an amazing meal prepared by my mom and then venture out for a root beer float. Hiking is amazing for anyone who watches their calories. I burned around 3,200 calories, and I couldn't eat/drink enough to replace all of that.

I spent yesterday exhausted despite sleeping for 11 hours. I sat at a family friend's kids birthday party slumped in a chair, unable to finish a beer. I did put away three slices of pizza like a champ, though. My shoulders, back, and quads ached. I was doing well right after the hike, but the day after it seemed like every time I sat down it was harder to get up. Thankfully I'm feeling better today, and the only evidence of the trip are a few nasty bug bites and the scrapes on my legs. And some great pictures, obviously.

Overall, this was an A++ trip. The views were unbeatable, it was challenging yet rewarding, and I was able to check two mountains off my 4,000 list. Little Haystack Mountain is not on the list despite being over 4,000 feet; to be on the list a peak must rise 200 feet above any ridge connecting it to a higher neighbor (this disqualifies Little Haystack). I know I'm up for the challenge of the other 5,000 footers on the list, and hopefully the 6,288 foot Mt. Washington!

BRACE YOURSELVES.. or Maybe Not.

Before I even start this I have to say that I am not a licensed medical professional. Do not take my words as such. I have got to the point where I'm calling my doctors by numbers because there's too many of them for me to remember, though (I'm meeting # 10 tomorrow, an otolaryngoloist).

To brace or not to brace? That is the question. The jury seems to be out on whether or not braces help or hurt during physical activity, especially knee braces. But first, let me take you back to why my knees need bracing in the first place.

I was blessed with hideous bone structure in my knees (back and hips, too, thanks mom). Doing a lot of high-impact sports during my youth was not great for the 'ol joints. I have pretty prominent Osgood-Schlatter disease lumps under my knees that have been painful my entire life. I had to brace my knees on and off for years, especially during track, but overall I had no major problems...

How I feel anytime I recall this story

...until one fateful night at a club that I hated with all of my might. Okay, to be fair I didn't really hate this place at the time, but it's an after-hours club that is open until 6am. I often spent at least one weekend night there at a party my friends and boyfriend-at-the-time were running, meaning I was often there until some ungodly hour of the night (or morning, I suppose). I don't remember why, but I was asked to go get one of my friends who was DJing. I was about to open the the swinging door to the DJ booth when the owner of the club came bursting through. I tried to twist and get out of the way of the door quick enough for him to pass by without running me over. The next thing I knew I was on the floor literally seeing stars and trying not to pass out again. As I tried to piece together why exactly I was on the floor I realized I remember feeling a huge pop in my left knee, and the pain was coming back with a vengeance. Thankfully this took place in the lounge, so I was able to haul myself up onto a couch. I sat there writhing in pain for a few minutes, unable to get up and get help. I could already see my knee swelling through my pants. After a few minutes one of my friends passed by... I have no idea what I said but it was something along the lines that my knee was broken (it was not). I had always wondered why the bouncers had ignored me while I sat there grasping my knee, rocking back and forth, on the verge of passing out. It turns out they thought I was having a bad drug trip and I was trying to ride it out. A+ service, dudes.

Look at my insides. 

I went to the Massachusetts General Hospital ER. MGH is rated # 1 overall best hospital in the country, and # 4 best orthopedic hospital in the country, but somehow didn't have a knee brace or any pain killers to give me (NOT EVEN AN ADVIL). They said I dislocated my knee cap, gave me crutches, and sent me on my way. An orthopedist ordered a MRI thinking I had torn my ACL. The results came back, and his exact words were "Molly, you see the white stuff? That's not good." I had a small tear my in my mensicus, a partial dislocation of my kneecap, a strained MCL, and a sizable bone bruise. ALL FROM MOVING OUT OF THE WAY OF A DOOR. I hated the story so much that I started compulsively lying when people asked me what I had done. People that ask about your injury are typically doing so because they want to tell you their own story. "Are you a dancer? Because I had a knee injury when I danced." Why yes, I was a dancer. "Are you a runner? Looks like you did the same thing as I did!" Ah, yes, Molly the cross country runner. Whatever, all of it sounded better than "I got out of the way of a door a club."

I had weird tan lines for a while.

I spent that summer home in New Hampshire, which was great timing since getting around the city on Vicodin and crutches was not the most fun I've ever had. Thankfully surgery was not part of my recovery plan. My orthopedist thought I was young and healthy enough that the tear would mend on its own. I started my recovery with "Kurt The Hottie", a local physical therapist that my mom had seen for her own knee injury. Kurt The Hottie was a man shrouded in mystery. My mom always spoke affectionally about him, his "Hottie"-ness, and his kind disposition, yet no one ever met or even seen Kurt The Hottie. I almost fell out of my chair when I found out he was going to be my physical therapist. To clarify, he was a handsome and kind man who often brought me homemade popcorn to eat while he tortured me, but I wouldn't put him in the "hottie" category. My biggest hurdle in PT was simply getting my leg straight. My knee had been so swollen that I hadn't been able to straighten it for weeks, and my hamstring completely locked up. Getting a leg message for an hour sounds nice, but I promise you that I was pouring sweat and fighting the urge to punch Kurt The Hottie the entire time. Once my leg could straighten, he introduced me to Kinesiology Tape, or KT tape, and taped my knees (shown above) in ridiculous ways all summer. Despite looking like an idiot, KT tape did wonders for me. More on that later.

Once I was recovered enough he suggested a specialized brace for patellar subluxation and patellar tracking, my two biggest problems. I'm prone to knee injuries because the structure of my knee joint forces my kneecaps to track to the sides, not straight like a normal human being, which makes it very easy to dislocate, sprain, or tear something in my knee. Well, the brace cost me $80. Kurt The Hottie suggested buying another one for my right knee, since the same problem was just as likely to happen to that one. I decided to take my chances. In our next session he told me to leave my $80 knee brace off for my exercises that day, because "the jury's out on bracing, it can actually make your knee weaker." Kurt The Hottie, I thought, if you just had me spend $80 on a knee brace I don't need I will slap you.

Fast forward to today and I still have a significant amount of knee troubles. I can't fully straighten and lock my left leg without my kneecap popping, and that knee cracks about 25 times a day. My right knee is okay for now, but occasionally it riots against me and reminds me that I have the joints of a 90 year old. I'm terrified of injuring my right knee or re-injuring my left, so you can imagine my terror in skidding down rocky mountain trails.

It seems that there's two schools of thoughts on bracing. One is that it keeps everything where it should be, can prevent injury, and, in a case like mine, forces you to strengthen the appropriate muscles. The other is that braces limit your mobility and cause the muscles, tendons, and ligaments to essentially go to sleep since they don't have to work, eventually weakening the area. So what to do?

No one looks this good using this machine. She is a lie.

I've found what's best for me is to only use braces when I feel I really need it. I've worked a lot on strengthening my leg muscles, and I think it's really helped. I had my kneecap pop out of place while I was running recently and thankfully it immediately corrected itself. I attribute that to what I call the prostitute machine (pictured left). Why call it the prostitute machine, you ask? Because you spread your legs as far apart as possible and squeeze them together. Your goods are really out there on display unless you're wearing XL sweatpants. But the real point is that the inner thigh muscles are what hold my kneecap in place and prevent it from popping out to the side, and I think it's what saved me from another dislocation. I do almost all of my exercise without braces, but occasionally I do use them if I'm in pain. I have two full knee braces, the expensive one, and a knee strap that helps alleviate Osgood-Schlatter's pain.

Go, bionic knees, go!

The problem with braces and hiking is that they can get really uncomfortable really fast, especially if it's hot out. This is where KT Tape has come in really handy for me. I don't know KT Tape works, but it's been great for me, especially when I don't want to have a big bulky brace on in 80 degree heat. That being said, I never go out on the trail without at least one brace in my bag. I usually end up putting one or two on before the end of the trip. My rule of thumb is to put them on if I'm getting tired or descending. A huge number of injuries occur on the descent; you're often tired, going much faster, and sliding around more. One misstep can end in disaster. So, I strap on my "bionic knees" and hope for the best!

Bracing versus not bracing versus KT Tape versus a combination of all three is really up to the individual and their needs. I will always need some sort of extra support, but I've found that training without the braces has really helped. Brace or no brace, I'm ready for someone to just give me their knee joints and call it a day. Happy bracing, everyone!

Book Review - Hiking Through

I have been on a Appalachian Trail book kick lately (BUM BUM BUMMMMMMM). I suppose it's not surprise that someone with a love of hiking is infatuated with the AT and the stories of it. The AT is the Holy Grail, the ultimate pilgrimage, a life changer, or sometimes a life ruiner. I read Wild by Cheryl Strayed (she hiked the PCT) last year and was absolutely obsessed with it, but I found that I didn't appreciate the struggles until I did a long-distance hike myself. Hiking 28.39 miles over two days is absolutely nothing, I mean really nothing, compared to an AT or PCT thruhike, but it did help me appreciate AT stories a little more.

Hiking Through was written by Paul Stutzman, a man who gives up his life to hike the AT after losing his wife to cancer. His story of losing his wife, quitting his job, and deciding to pursue his dream is so incredibly touching... but that's only half the story, really. The bigger story is the people he meets on the trail, the wonders of "trail magic", his spiritual journey, and coming to terms with what's important in life. Those things seem to be a recurring theme throughout AT hiking stories. One of my favorite quotes came from his experience in Dalton, Massachusetts. The largest employer in Dalton is Crane & Company, which makes all the paper money used in the U.S. It wasn't the money in Dalton that mattered. He "...saw and felt what life is truly about: families, togetherness, unity, acceptance, respect, and love for God. Those ingredients build strong spines and foster the courage to do what's right in any situation. That's something all the money in Dalton can never buy."

Now, let me get back to the "God" thing. This is just as much about Stutzman's relationship with God as it is about a hike. I would have realized that if I had actually read the entire description (I just got excited and put it in my Amazon shopping). I do not consider myself a religious person, so I found myself skimming over the "God-this-God-that" parts to get back to the hiking stuff. By the end, though, I started to appreciate his words more. I may not have the same views as him, but I can understand and appreciate the spiritual transformation he went through. I have said before that hiking is like therapy to me. It's hard not to feel connected to something larger than yourself when you're on top of a mountain.

Overall I enjoyed this book a lot. I laughed and cried along with him. No, I mean I actually cried. I started crying on the train when he reaches the summit of Katahdin and holds the sign sobbing. It was a weird commute home from the gym. Anyway, his story of losing his wife and literal/spiritual journey was inspiring and beautifully written. I would definitely recommend it to anyone, but to especially anyone who has lost a loved one and has had to navigate through that grief.

A Useless Hobby

Hiking a useless hobby, really.

There's no tangible outcome with no audience. If you knit, you make a nice sweater. If you paint, you create a beautiful piece of art. If you sing, you entertain the crowd. If you hike, you walk around and spend hours climbing mountains. Maybe you get a nice picture and a story to tell every once in a while.

It's not that useful of a skill. Anyone can walk. Anyone can walk up a mountain, given enough time. It does not require a natural ability. Some people will say that you can become a great dancer with enough practice, but I promise you there is a natural talent and ability that makes someone a graceful dancer and some people will never have that (me included).

Hiking is often hard, sometimes dangerous, sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes boring. It leaves you sore, tired, blistered, and chaffed. A nice day can turn into a storm in an instant at higher elevations and can leave you drenched from head to toe. A huge range of plants and animals can, at the very least, give you a scare, and at the very worst, kill you. You often have to pee in the woods.

So why the hell do it?

I grew in up Southern New Hampshire, so naturally I was surrounded by the woods. I loved the outdoors as a kid, but in high school I was too consumed by teenage angst to care much about anything else. My ailing body is a running joke among my friends and family. I tore my meniscus and partially dislocated my kneecap two years ago by simply getting out of the way of an opening door. A month on crutches and 6 weeks of physical therapy was only the beginning. It took a year before I was fully healed.

After weeks of discomfort in my lower back I had another MRI and found out I had a bulging disc pressing up against my spine. I had a epidural cortisone injection in my spine and went back to physical therapy. In this round of physical therapy I found out I have mild scoliosis and a bone deformity in my hip that makes my left leg longer than my right; basically, I have been off balance for 22 years.

"I'm back!"

I didn't get back into hiking until last summer when I went out with two friends of mine. It was a small mountain, but getting to the top of it was extremely rewarding. I felt like I was finally back to normalcy (though I will forever need braces and PT), like I was strong and able. Anyone who has had an injury that takes a long time to heal knows what I mean. I saw the much larger Mount Monadnock from the summit of Pack Monadnock and set my sights there. It didn't take long to reach that goal, and my love for the outdoors has been reignited ever since.

So, why hike? Well, for me it provides a chance to detach from life while appreciating it at the same time. How often do you appreciate a really pretty tree? A nice view? A giant boulder in the middle of the woods? I've lived in Boston for the past 5 years, and as much as I love the city part of my heart is still in the woods of New Hampshire. Life in a city can get pretty monotonous, hectic, and suffocating at times. Getting out on a mountain is quite literally a breath of fresh air. It's a chance to sign offline, even if just for a few hours, and be blissfully detached. The miles of blood, sweat, and (figurative) tears are worth the view at the top. A lot of people do their best thinking in the shower, I do some of my best thinking trekking through the woods. Though I am no super-hiker, my experiences hiking in the past year have pushed my limits and showed me that I am capable of being a little tough. In a time when my life is up in the air, student loans are looming over my head, the pressure to get a job and make money is more significant than ever, my personal life isn't always steady, etc., climbing a mountain is something I CAN accomplish.

Welcome to my misadventures on mountains.